The Wind Cries Sarah
by The-Flame-Faerie
Summary: In the aftermath of the Labyrinth, The Goblin King Jareth could swear that even the elements were taunting him for his loss...


_**a/n**__ ... and once more, I find myself delving into the world of Labyrinth fandom._

_... I think this is what happens when I choose one of my favourite movies for an HSC additional text: Wackiness ensues._

_So, yes. I don't own these characters, nor do I own the song which inspired this oneshot. Henson and Hendrix own them, respectively._

_Funnily enough, the idea came to me while stalkerishly reading my friend's facebook wall, where another friend posted some of these lyrics, talking about her lost boyfriend. Which is probably why this piece is so far removed from my usual dry comedy, and is, instead, quite angsty._

_As such, this is dedicated to those two (let's call them "L" and "A") _

* * *

**And The Wind Cries Sarah **

* * *

When she was six years old, he'd begun to watch her. 

She was nothing but a mortal child, a trifle, compared to him – the great Fae king.

Some would even argue the _greatest_ Fae king, but he was unconcerned by them.

It disturbed him that he was so enwrapped by this girl, watching her as she enacted her most favourite scenes from her faerie stories – she was the heroine; the dragon slayer; the brave; the princess.

She entertained him with her stories. They were told with such passion, such _imagination_ that he couldn't help himself.

And so each week, he visited her. An owl, perched in a tree in her back garden.

An avian audience to her amateur theatrics.

He couldn't understand it, but he never really tried to. It didn't matter. All that mattered was her. Still, he told himself that one day he would move past this, and move on. It was just a phase; _she_ was just a momentary distraction which he would soon relieve himself of. But until that moment, he watched her.

He was never sure exactly if she knew he was there, or if it was more a subconscious thing that she seemed to play towards his tree. Either way, it didn't matter to him.

The magic of her words and of her movements was so strong that he couldn't stay away. It empowered him. It intoxicated him.

Secretly, he supposed there was something wrong with him, being so drawn in by a fledgling, but he chose to ignore that nagging voice.

While he watched her, there was no logic. There was just her. Her happiness. Her raw and wild magic.

He shivered in delight.

It took months for him to learn her name, and when he did, it was by accident.

He had been so used to seeing her as Belle, or Aurora; Dorothy or Cinderella that her true name seemed foreign from the moment he heard it.

A dark haired woman had stood at the door and called to her, demanding her presence at dinner.

_Sarah_.

The sounds rolled over is tongue, delighting his senses like a fine wine.

When he lounged in his throne, he toyed with the word, drawing it out, letting the consonants dance past his lips like the nymphs at Beltane.

_Sarah_.

Suddenly, there was a name for the face. A title for the imagination.

An identity.

Suddenly, she became real. More than a passing fancy.

_Sarah_.

.1.1.1.1.1.

As he watched her grow, suddenly he was no longer content to watch her in the shadows.

He needed contact with the one who had ensnared his senses in such a wickedly innocent manner. She was completely oblivious to his existence, but he was all too aware of hers. And this annoyed him more than any drunken goblin relieving the contents of his stomach upon the King's left foot.

And so, he decided, he would appear to her.

But it had to be perfect. There was no way it could be any different.

He would allow her to be magnificent.

Which is why he found himself seated at a desk in his study, furiously scrawling notes across an ink-stained parchment.

He glowered, scratching out an entire paragraph, before starting again.

There was ink smudged across one cheek, a broken feather in his hair and a darkness in his eyes that told of his lack of sleep.

He was obsessed by this. By her.

She would be a heroine, just like she was always to be. And he would watch her as she played out their story.

And she would long for him as he had for her.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, but continued to write.

He must finish this. He could wait no longer. She must know him. She must love him.

In his mind, she was already _his_ Sarah. A Goblin Queen to his Goblin King

.1.1.1.1.1.

He knew that in the end, he had been his own downfall.

He'd written his princess as a conqueror, the character Sarah had been born to play. She was magnificent, rising to the role as he had known she would.

She faced the challenges of his Labyrinth and she won, finding her way to the Goblin city. She had bested his game, as he had known she would.

He had expected by this time that she would be as enraptured in his spell as he was in hers.

He was mistaken.

He hadn't intended for his ending to play out. He had hoped that she would accept his offer. After all, so many Fae would have killed to hear the words: _Fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave_ cross the lips of the Goblin King.

But not her. Not his Sarah.

The mortal chit had denied him, rejected him. He had played his part – let her be the heroine she had only every pretended before – he had given her a dream.

But she needed reality. Cold, hard and cruel reality.

The moment she disappeared, he had stumbled into his throne room, barren of Goblins, and taken a bottle of strongest whiskey.

Sinking into his throne, he took a swig. A long drink.

It burned his throat on the way down, but he didn't notice.

She was gone.

.1.1.1.1.1.

His feet dragged as he stumbled down the darkened streets of the Goblin city. His balance was precarious at best, but still he staggered on, a bottle of Goblin moonshine clutched in his right hand.

He stumbled towards the Labyrinth.

Sensing the presence of its King, it opened a path which directed him to the Ovidian river, allowing the inebriated ruler to gain access to his place of respite.

The Goblin King collapsed on a rock and drank, glassy eyes staring at the surface of the stationary water.

On an alcohol laden breath, a word was sighed.

It was so soft, that one would have most certainly missed it as it slid from his tongue and hung in the open air.

He swore that the wind gathered it into its self and toyed with it, just as he had, allowing her to dance upon a zephyr.

_Sarah_.

.1.1.1.1.1.

When she had finally returned from the Labyrinth, when her victory party had wound down and her guests had all returned Underground, she lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling.

_Had it all been real?_ She thought, examining the cracked white paint of her roof, _Or had tonight been a stress-induced hallucination?_

She rolled onto her side, looking at her now-barren dressing table.

Well,_almost_ barren.

Still perched atop the cedar, a stern look gracing his sculptured features sat the Goblin King, illuminated by the patchy moonlight. He still stared out over her room, still held that commanding presence in _her_ domain.

She stared back.

Slowly, the girl sat up, and kicked off her blankets, the statue still holding her gaze.

She stood shakily, slowly approaching her dresser, and slid into the seat.

Still, she stared.

Outside, the wind rattled her windows, a tree tapping a slow and steady rhythm on the panes of glass.

The cool it brought slid through the cracks and it danced over her bared skin, taunting and teasing as the pale expanses tautened from the cold.

She reached out a hand and touched the statue tentatively, as if worried it would suddenly move; suddenly harm her.

There was nothing.

She sat.

Once, she'd sat here, staring at her reflection in the mirror as he brushed her long russet hair, dreaming that she was a faerie tale princess.

That was, of course, before she was sent through the Labyrinth and forced to confront herself and her childhood.

Before she was transformed from child to adult.

Now, that princess was gone; the blissful innocence and bratty existence stolen away by a king. A lonely king.

She wasn't sure exactly when it was that she began crying, but soon she became aware of the cold cascades, falling in rivulets down her pale cheeks.

She touched her wet cheeks with two fingers, bringing them back to stare, almost shocked at her weeping eyes.

She had grown up in that night.

"_Fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave_".

Had he meant it? Had he honestly meant to offer her himself? Or was it all just another trick to keep her from her goal?

She switched on the lamp by her bedside, allowing the light to flicker to life before she opened her dresser drawer.

Staring back at her was the little red book, its edges rounded, spine cracked from continuous reading. The book was aged beyond its years.

She gingerly lifted it, and slowly opened the red cover to a page, exposing the words to the open air.

_...But what no-one knew was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl..._

A fresh tear slid down her cheek.

.1.1.1.1.1.

Indeed, the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl.

Even now, after she had broken his heart, he found that he could not _stop_ loving the girl.

He had intended to make _his_ Sarah his queen.

But now, somewhere his queen was weeping.

And in that Castle Beyond the Goblin City, the king had no wife.

.1.1.1.1.1.

She frowned, lines wrinkling her forehead as she drove along the street to her work.

Her hair was pulled behind her in a severe bun, a few disobedient wisps of hair falling over her pale neck and emerald eyes.

She sat in her car, frowning at the line of cars that stretched before her.

Her sable hair was pulled behind her in a severe bun, though wisps of it had escaped and fell over her delicately featured face.

Long fingers flicked the hair from in front of her emerald eyes and her frown deepened.

At this rate, she would be horribly late for work.

She was a teacher, a primary school educator.

Her students, a kindergarten class, could often be likened to a group of rowdy Goblins, rampaging and terrorising.

She loved them all dearly, and they, her.

It had been thirteen years since her experience in the Labyrinth of the Goblin King, and she found that, were she given enough time to allow him to, the Underground monarch would creep into her thoughts.

Still, those same questions as that first night after bounced around her head.

_Had_ he truly meant what he offered? If she had accepted him, would she now be the Goblin Queen, rather than an underpaid kindergarten teacher?

She closed her eyes, sinking back into her seat. It would not do for her to dwell on that now.

Absentmindedly, Sarah ran a hand over the leather of her carseat.

She could not explain it, but after that fateful day thirteen years prior, she'd gained a fondness for, at least, the smell of leather. But mostly, the feel of it was never quite right. Not quite soft enough, never the same as the leather that had brushed her skin in her ballroom hallucination.

And nothing ever elicited the same sounds and shivers as his touch had in that fantasy.

Still, he was unattainable to her – a figure that she could look at, but never touch. A benevolent king who was never to be hers.

It took her thirteen years to realise that he wasn't the villain she'd forced him to play.

Emerald darted up to her rear mirror, glancing for one moment at the lorry behind her, before settling on her own face. She brought a finger up to smudge the concealer beneath her right eye, blending it into her skin.

At that moment, the traffic began to move, and her attention snapped back to the road. She let out a small cheer, finally moving on past the ever-changing traffic lights.

Her speed crept up now as she finally got moving properly, until the car in front stopped suddenly.

She slammed on her breaks, managing to stop before colliding with the red Mercedes in front of her.

The lorry behind her did not.

.1.1.1.1.1.

Sirens blared around her, Sarah vaguely registered the sounds of people talking to her and cutting open her door.

Feebly, she moved, but could not assist them.

The door gave way and fell onto the bitumen with a heavy crash, and she winced.

Then her rescuers hauled her from her car onto the road, and she lay there, her breath drawn in short, shallow gasps.

And holding tight on one of those breaths was a name.

_Jareth_.

.1.1.1.1.1.

The barest whisper of his name was enough for him to know that it was her.

Thirteen years, and she had finally called.

Not even Danu herself could keep him from her side.

.1.1.1.1.1.

The stiff wind that hit her rapidly numbing side was enough for Sarah to know that Jareth had arrived.

She heard his sharp intake of breath, felt him kneel beside her, saw his shadow, even if she could not see him.

Absentmindedly, she saw that he had, once more, altered time for her – all around her was frozen, such as the men, mid crouch as they bent to attend to her.

All had stopped.

All, that was, but Jareth.

"Sarah," his voice was low and tantalising, just as it had been when she had first met him, all those years ago, "What happened, my love?"

"_Car_," she gasped out, "I'm... I'm dying Jareth,"

"No," he rolled her onto her back, taking one of her small hands in his. The leather felt cool against her hot skin, "I'll not let you, my Sarah,"

She smiled ever so slightly, looking up at the haggard Goblin King.

_Tempus rapit_ – Time pillages.

Jareth stared at her with mismatched eyes, drinking her in. His right hand seized hers, gently rubbing soothing circles over her knuckles. The other traced over the features of her face; so tired and ravaged, yet so beautiful.

Her eyes were still the same emerald that they were at their first meeting, but now they seemed glassier. Sarah was trying so hard to focus on him, but his image kept blurring.

"Come, Sarah. Wish yourself away and I can stop this,"

"No," She was infuriatingly defiant to the last, "No," she coughed out, "I called to say..."

"Say your right words, Sarah,"

"... _I'm sorry_, Jareth," she whispered. His eyes widened as hers closed. Her breathing was slowing now.

"No, Sarah. Please. I cannot save you unless you wish yourself into my power. _Please Sarah,_ I'll not lose you again,"

Her eyes blinked back open, the Goblin King's face swimming in her vision.

"..._Jareth..."_ tears stung the corner of Jareth's eyes.

"_My__Sarah_..."

Her breath shuddered, her eyes closed.

Sarah's head fell to one side and her grip on his hand released.

"Sarah?" Jareth cupped her left cheek, "Sarah?"

There was no response.

Salty tears burned his cheeks as they fell in steady rivulets down the alabaster.

Still, he shook her.

"Sarah?" his voice was louder, "Sarah, answer me!"

She lay there, sable hair spread over the bitumen road.

"_Sarah!_" he howled, gathering her lifeless body into his arms, "_Sarah!"_

The wind around them gathered, and his cries clung to it, flying higher and higher, further and wider.

As time, once more, began to flow, the men who had been preparing to attend to the crash victim, suddenly found she had disappeared into thin air without anyone seeing why.

But they heard.

On the sudden winds, the heard the anguished screams of the Goblin King for his fallen Queen.

"_Sarah!_"

.1.1.1.1.1.

The goblins watched the shoulders of their King heave as he wept over the mortal woman.

_The Great Sarah Williams, defeater of the Labyrinth_ _was dead_.

He had brought her back to the underground, back to the Labyrinth, where a crystal coffin was constructed for her in its centre. He had her dressed in a white gown – the gown of her ballroom fantasy, and hidden her injuries with magic, and lain her inside, sealing her for all time.

His beautiful queen...

_His beautiful queen was dead_.

Jareth's sobs were heavy, and he fell over her tomb, shaking and screaming.

For her.

For Sarah.

.1.1.1.1.1.

The numbness came with time. Too much time.

His life was nothing more than an empty shell. He was a husk of his former self – he slept, barely, ate as little as he could, and spent his waking hours watching crystal after crystal of her time in the Labyrinth.

The goblins began to speculate that perhaps their king had loved this mortal chit.

Without his rule, the Goblin City began to fall into disrepair, as did the Labyrinth. He knew it wasn't going to be too long before the Seelie court intervened and dismissed him from his rule.

He didn't care.

It was some time before he could visit her crystal prison. Seeing her face, so perfectly preserved, even after hundreds, thousands of years, wrenched a dull ache in his heart.

He knew that each year, on the anniversary of her death, she was visited by the fox-knight, the rock caller and his gardener, but that too didn't seem to matter.

Today, he found himself in the Labyrinth's heart, where, so appropriately, the woman who had claimed his own was residing.

He conjured himself a chair and sank into it, staring at her perfect face with mismatched eyes.

Today, he would not cry.

He watched her, and it was almost as though she was sleeping. She looked so peaceful, and so beautiful in her white gown. That was the hardest part for him – she looked as though seeing her would only be a matter of touching her with a gentle hand and waking her.

Of course, the reality was so very different.

_Don't tell me truth hurts, little girl, because it hurts like hell_.

He had watched so many come and go – so many women, so many mortals, so many he had felt some affection for.

But none had affected him as she had. He had loved none as he had her.

He knew, though, that with time, with senility and with the grace of the powers above that he could forget himself. Forget her.

In time, this could all be a bad dream.

_But no,_ he thinks as the wind spirals around him, _no, he won't forget her place in his past_.

And as loves are fleeting, as they come and go, he knew that she would be his last.

"I wish," he whispered, pressing a hand to the crystal beside Sarah's, "I wish I could be with you, my love, for eternity,"

The zephyr danced around him, swirling and rising – picking up its pace, fuelled by his words.

He closed his eyes, letting out a long slow breath, and let the darkness claim him.

.1.1.1.1.1.

_The legends of the Labyrinthine monarch, the Goblin King Jareth, of the Avalon Fae, are unclear on his method of death._

_Some dictate that the king simply died from a broken heart, while others suggest he committed suicide after the death of his queen._

_However, the most popular and widely accepted tale is that he wished to his Labyrinth that he would be reunited with his dead Queen, The Goblin Queen Sarah Williams, of the Aboveground Humans, defeater of the Labyrinth, and, feeling benevolent, the Labyrinth obeyed and allowed his spirit to reunite with hers, where they would dance together for all eternity._

_However, all the tales maintain that at the moment of his death, the winds themselves seemed to cry out one name:_

_Sarah. _

* * *

_The Wind Cries Mary – Jimi Hendrix_

_After all the jacks are in their boxes  
And the clowns have all gone to bed  
You can hear happiness staggering on down the street  
Footsteps dressed in red  
And the wind whispers Mary._

_A broom is drearily sweeping  
Up the broken pieces of yesterday's life  
Somewhere a queen is weeping  
Somewhere a king has no wife  
And the wind, it cries Mary_

_The traffic lights, they turn, uh, blue tomorrow  
And shine their emptiness down on my bed  
The tiny island sags down stream  
Cause the life that lived is dead  
And the wind screams Mary_

_Uh – will the wind ever remember  
The names it has blown in the past?  
And with this crutch, its old age, and its wisdom  
It whispers no, this will be the last  
And the wind cries Mary _

* * *

_**a/n**__ I'm not normally a fan of the angsty!Labyfics, nor am I generally an angst writer (as you can probably tell, I'm quite bad at it... --") but as I was writing this, I could literally see __no possible manner__ of this finishing with a happy ending._

_I know I worried my mother when she heard me consider how to kill Sarah._

_Anyway, I suppose this is quite rough – procrastination work! – and, like so many of my other stories, I'll one day come back and fix it up (I hope), so..._

_Well, I hope you all enjoyed it anyway._

_As I'm still quite new to the Labyrinth Fanfiction Scene, I'd really appreciate any feedback and reviews from you all._

_But I'll break the ice and say it: I know I made them both quite OOC, but the idea that Jareth was so in love with Sarah that losing her practically destroyed him appeals to me. And Sarah, I've always thought, did fancy the Goblin King, and did see Jareth as something unattainable – from his first appearances in her parents' bedroom. There was most definitely something other than dislike racing through her while she ran the labyrinth._

_I mean, come on. She was 15 and hormonal. And Jareth was wearing incredibly tight pants, as well as being the ever-gorgeous David Bowie. You do the math._

_Which reminds me, I've been putting of that trigonometry for far too long..._

_Much love,  
The Flame Faerie._


End file.
